


Real Power is in the Heart

by TARDISTraveller42



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Crew as Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Medical Procedures, Starship Enterprise (Star Trek)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TARDISTraveller42/pseuds/TARDISTraveller42
Summary: When Data is injured on a mission that has gone terribly wrong, it is up to Worf to keep him safe. A warrior does not abandon his friends. But will that be enough to save Data's life this time?
Relationships: Crew of the Starship Enterprise & Data, Data & Worf (Star Trek)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85





	1. Part 1

In the middle of the fighting, Worf’s eyes landed on his phaser, and he wondered for a second how he had found himself in this mess of a situation.

He’d been on Deep Space Nine for two years now. Had only returned to the Enterprise last week for a short visit: see his friends, let Alexander say hello to his old classmates. Everyone was a bit older, a bit less familiar. But they welcomed him back with open arms. 

Then came the distress signal; the hastily assembled away team. He volunteered himself as a matter of course rather than after any form of careful deliberation. Then the meeting with city officials, where a fight broke out. 

Factions splitting off. 

Phasers out. 

Team split up.

And all of that led to this moment, in which he found himself teamed up with Data, with the rest of their crew on the other side of the complex. God knows why, but he and Data found themselves outside during the scuffle. Now they were hiding behind snow-covered boulders to avoid the blasts from whatever group of attackers their assailants were. 

The wind picked up, and Worf was suddenly glad to have tied his hair tied up so that it wouldn't be in the way. But this left his neck exposed to the frosty air, and if Russia had taught him anything it was that the elements were not to be trifled with. Russia had also taught him that snow had a smell; and today’s snowfall seemed less than a mile away. If he didn’t get somewhere with decent, warm clothing, he’d risk frostbite. 

Frostbite was not honorable.

“Commander!” He called out to Data, finding it difficult to make his voice louder than the storm and the siege of ricocheting bullets and spears. “We must get back inside the building!”

On the other side of the large arc they were stationed on either side of, Data nodded. Or, at least, Worf thought he saw him nod. The wind whipping at his eyes made it difficult to see anything that far away.

“Lieutenant,” Data replied. “I will move forward, if you-”

Data’s voice was suddenly cut off. Worf’s ears perked up, but he could hear nothing more. Squinting, he tried to see across the space between himself and his comrade. But the snow was starting to fall, and the flurries were making it more and more difficult to see.

“Commander!” He shouted, then quieted himself. If the attackers had caught up with them; somehow snuck around via a secret passageway, then…

“Yeeaaah!” a voice cried out, directly behind Worf.

He managed to spin around in time; fired his phaser in what he hoped was the correct direction. The attacker, weilding a sword of some sort, fell to the hard ground. Unconscious. 

Okay. Today was full of surprises.

Worf breathed, then stood and looked around. More of them would be coming. And one had probably already attacked Data, which would explain why he was cut off earlier. Through the flurries, Worf just barely made out a shadow approaching from his left. Another spin, another phaser shot, and the attacker was on the ground before him. 

Worf tapped his comm badge, eyes scanning the field around him. 

“Worf to Enterprise...Enterprise, this is Lieutenant Worf; please respond!”

No answer. Worf didn’t have time to figure out what was wrong, whether it be an environmental factor or something the uprising group had done to the communications systems. He had to find the rest of his crew. He had to get out of the storm.

Carefully, he peeked around the boulder he’d been crouched behind for the past ten minutes. He couldn’t see anyone on the other side of it, in the complex or anywhere else. Of course, he couldn’t see very much of anything out in this growing blizzard. So he grit his teeth and made a dash for it; twenty yards across open space, to the other side of the archway.

“Commander!” Worf called again, scanning the path he’d just created for any followers. All was quiet, except the wind in his ears. He turned back and kicked at the dusting of snow in his way as he stepped around the boulder.

There, he saw him.

“Data,” Worf said under his breath. “ghuy’cha’”.

Data was on his back, staring up at the sky. He seemed even paler than usual, wide eyes glistening a bright shade of yellow against his pale skin. But that wasn’t the distressing part: no, that would be the weapon embedded in the android’s torso. Some kind of large knife, lodged below his ribs. 

One of Data’s hands was clamped where it met his bioplast, carefully avoiding the object itself.

“One of the attackers ‘snuck up’ behind me,” he explained in a soft, stuttering voice. “I did not have time to react.”

Worf hesitated for a moment in indecision, and then crashed to his knees. He gripped his phaser a little tighter than before. Growled, angry; no, furious. “This group has no honor,” he ranted. “Brave men do not engage in sneak attacks; they look their enemy in the eye as they attack.”

If he were honest with himself, he was falling back on the old adages because he was terrified. Here he was, out in a storm, surrounded by people who had a feud with Starfleet he knew nothing about, with an injured android laying in front of him.

“Lieutenant,” Data said with a shaky voice. He swallowed hard. “The weapon pierced one of my major fluid storage compartments.” He looked up at Worf with the big eyes of a frightened child.

Worf’s eyebrows shot up his high forehead. He had no idea what a ‘major fluid storage compartment’ was, but it sounded like something that shouldn’t be stabbed. And he really wasn’t used to Data’s new emotions, having only seen him once since the integration of the emotion chip. 

At the moment, Worf couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a day as bad as this.

“Commander…” he started confidently, then cleared his throat. Dropped his voice to a softer tone. “I will keep you safe. And we will get back to the Enterprise. But first, we must return to the complex. It is dangerous to be out in a storm like this without protective gear.”

Data nodded, and seemed to calm slightly. Good. Maybe, Worf wondered, he had done something right. 

“You may leave me here, Lieutenant; if you must,” Data said suddenly. 

Worf jumped at the suggestion. Shook his head with a kind smile. “Not a chance.” 

They met eyes, and Worf tried to convey how serious he was. They’d been through it all in the past nine years or so. Days that were glorious, and days they would rather forget. Worf was not going to leave his friend and crewmate out here for anything; especially not just to save his own skin. Surely Data knew that.

“I will carry you.” Worf shifted, so that he was in a better position to lift the heavy android. “I will try not to move you more than I have to.”

“I can feel no physical pain,” Data assured. “However, it is prudent not to allow the sword to move lest I, in human terms…’bleed out’.”

Worf ignored that last statement; his hands were numb and shaky enough as it was. After one more glance around, confirming that they were alone out here, Worf set one hand under Data’s knees and one behind his back. He stood slowly, trying to keep Data’s body still. But the sword still jarred slightly, and Worf could now see and smell the golden oil seeping around the wound. It ran down Data’s hand, as he continued to apply pressure around the point of impact. Some of it trickled down to his wrist, seeping into the fabric of his uniform.

“Lieutenant?” Data said softly, calling Worf back into focus.

He didn’t respond; didn’t need to. He needed to get them inside. So that’s what he worked on.

All the while, as Worf hung close to the rocks and crept through the archway, he was merely praying that none of their enemies would show up. He didn’t actually have a plan prepared if that were to happen, which was probably a mistake. But he didn’t have the time or energy for thinking of strategies. And, anyway, they seemed to be the only ones braving this horrible storm. For once, the blizzard appeared to be a mercy.

“Data, do you have your phaser?” he whispered, as they hid beside a bush next to the door to the complex.

“Yes. However, I am unsure if my aim is functional at the moment.”

Worf decided that was good enough; it had to be. His legs were starting to go numb, and if he didn’t get warm soon, he wouldn’t have the strength to keep carrying Data. With a surge of bold courage, Worf tore through the door and into the safety of the building.

Thank God, it was quiet. Everyone seemed to have disappeared to another part of the enormous complex; one of the benefits of fighting in such a disgustingly luxurious building. But still, Worf wasn’t about to test their luck. He shifted along the wall, keeping in the shadows, and set Data on the most inconspicuous bench he could find. 

“How are you doing?” Worf asked gently, settling next to Data on the bench.

“I was previously unaware of the emotional pain that accompanied physical injury.” Data’s hand clamped tighter around his injury. Even if they weren’t already, his knuckles would be white as a sheet. 

Worf found a tricorder attached to Data’s belt, and snatched it up just to give himself something to do. He scanned Data from head to toe. Listened to it beep furiously. But none of it was legible to him.

“Data? What do these readings mean?”

Data’s face fell as soon as he read the numbers. Jaw set, he swallowed. But when he spoke, it was as crisp and clear as ever. “At the current rate I am losing fluid, my coolant will likely reach dangerously low levels in one hour and forty-eight minutes. However, my temperature will begin to rise before then.”

“When do you need to be back on the Enterprise?”

“In one hour and five minutes, my temperature will be high enough to cause damage to minor systems.” 

Worf nodded, frowning. He didn’t even know how to get back in contact with the Enterprise, let alone get them transported back up. And where was the rest of the away team? Did they also require medical attention? 

Worf took a deep breath. He had trained for situations like these: back home in Russia, and in his training on Kronos. And, of course, at Starfleet. But that training was feeling more and more useless. The real thing was a lot worse; a lot scarier. A lot more personal, and a lot more real. 

He set down the tricorder and placed a hand on Data’s shoulder.

“We will get you to sickbay in time.” He didn’t base his statement on any sort of fact; just hoped that he was right. “I promise.”

Suddenly, one of the doors in the room slammed open. Worf ducked low, splaying himself around Data as a protective shield. As he pulled out his phaser, he listened closely. 

Voices. Not the voices of his friends; the voices of those angry men that had attacked them earlier. One of them was approaching. Too close.

Worf’s head shot up. He barely aimed in time, but he hit the guy in the chest. 

Out like a light. But the commotion called the attention of the others; three of them. 

Worf easily stunned the first, as he jumped up and maneuvered around the pillars and walls of the corridor. But as he fired, the second attacker hit him on the side with a stick of some kind. It did no permanent damage, but distracted him for a moment too long. By the time Worf had taken care of the one with the stick, the third was standing over Data.

“Why are you still alive?” the man sneered. He grabbed Data by the collar, pulled him up off the bench and onto his knees. 

Worf spun back around and burst into action, firing at the man before he had a chance to do anything else. But already, the damage was done. 

Data’s wound was bleeding a steady stream of golden oil, covering both of his pale hands. His jaw dropped slightly, as if in shock.

Worf took hold of his shoulders before he could collapse, and eased him onto the floor. Cradled his head as it reached the stony ground; squeezed his arms to try and get his attention.

“Data?” he said softly. Worf pressed both of his own hands on top of Data’s, both to connect with him and add to the pressure on the wound. “Commander.”

Data’s eyes turned blearily toward Worf. They were shining, bright yellow. And a moment later, Worf found out why. A tear trickled down Data’s face, dripping onto the stone below.

“Lieutenant," Data gasped.

“Worf.” 

“Worf…I am losing coolant at a faster rate than I was previously.”

“Yes, I know,” Worf grunted. Did he have to state the obvious when Worf was already panicking? 

“My thermoregulation will likely be compromised. We may have to go outside again. However, outside we cannot contact the Enterprise. And you cannot stay with me in the storm.” Data’s teeth began chattering, eyes leaking a constant stream of tears. “Worf, I...I am afraid.”

Worf had never heard Data sound like that before. That shaky; that unsure and frightened. He’d never felt this helpless for one of his crewmates. Worf was the strong one; always able to carry them to safety. Always able to fight off the enemy. But the enemy here was time, and communications, and transporters. And Worf could do nothing about that.

“It is alright to be afraid,” he said. “But do not lose hope. We do not know the future.”

Data’s breath suddenly became more rapid. At first, Worf thought maybe it was just his response to panic. But then he remembered what Data had said about thermoregulation. 

Worf carefully pried one of his hands off of Data’s injury and placed the back of his wrist on Data’s forehead. Warmer than usual. A lot warmer; like the android was running a fever. 

Worf returned his hand to the leaking wound and glanced around. Looking for help; looking for a sign; looking for-

“Worf?” Commander Riker’s voice suddenly called out from the doorway on the other side of the room.

“Over here!”

Two pairs of feet came rushing over. Will appeared first, letting out a sharp gasp when he saw Data lying on the ground. Then Deanna, wearing a similar expression of shock and worry. She clipped her tricorder onto her belt and knelt on the other side of Data, as Will dropped to his knees beside Worf.

“Data?” asked Deanna, wiping away one of his trickling tears. As soon as her fingers made contact with his bioplast skin, her head whipped up. “He’s burning up.”

“He said it is a reaction to losing coolant,” Worf explained, pressing ever harder on the injury. Willing it to stop bleeding. He looked back at Data and found his eyes closed, breath hitching slightly. Worf growled under his breath; at the attacker, at the sword, at the injury, anything that could take the blame.

“Will, go get some snow from outside,” said Deanna. Her eyes were locked on Data’s face, her hand trailing up and down his arm.

“On it.”

“Data,” Deanna tried again, stroking his face. “Data, it’s going to be alright.”

His eyes opened halfway, unfocused. He smiled slightly as he gazed up. A sad smile.

“Counselor.” His eyes fluttered shut again, a new tear falling down his cheek. 

Deanna smoothed his hair back with her thumb as she explained, “We managed to get through to the Enterprise. They’ll be in transporter range in about five minutes.”

“How did you get in contact with them?” Worf asked.

“There was better reception in one of the rooms on the other side of the complex. They’ll be able to lock onto our comm badge signals when they get closer.”

Data gasped suddenly, making them both jump. He regained his breath soon after, but his eyes remained shockingly out of focus.

“They better hurry,” Worf growled.

Deanna only frowned in reply. 

At that moment, Will returned carrying two armfuls of snow. He wobbled over to the others and laid it on the stone. With much gentility, he touched his cool fingers to Data’s head, spreading the icy water up his neck, across his forehead, through his hair. He and Deanna continued the process on his hands, pulling them gently away from his torso. Then his legs, rolling his pants up to his knees. 

All the while, Worf kept his hands pressed firmly into the injury. 

“How does that feel, Data?” Will asked with a soft smile.

“Refreshing.”

All three of the others smiled at that, and breathed a sigh of relief. At least something had actually gone to plan today, even if it was too little, too late.

Suddenly, their comm badges chirped. “Enterprise here, ready to transport,” said the transporter 

Will practically shouted his response. “Four to beam directly to sickbay!”

Worf only had time to find the soft smile curling Data’s lip before the transport beam faded him into a world of white.


	2. Part 2

"Get Geordi here, now!" Beverly ordered to someone on her staff.

Worf shook his head out and found himself still hovered above Data, his hands pressing around the sword still protruding from his torso. He was covered in golden coolant; his hands and arms sticky with it. But he wouldn't let go for the world.

"Data?" Beverly said, replacing Deanna on the opposite side of the android. "We're going to have to take you into surgery immediately."

"Yes, doctor," Data whispered. 

In the bright light of sickbay, Worf could see the bright shade of yellow that his tears had stained his face. But now, at least, he wore a gentle smile. 

Beverly smiled down at him, too. Ran a motherly hand through his hair. "You're going to be alright. I'm going to give you something to help you stay in your dream program throughout the procedure, okay?"

"Wait," Data called. "Can we wait until Geordi arrives? I wish to see him."

Beverly swallowed hard. Nodded her assent. For all her words, she didn't know how this would turn out. 

And anyway, they didn't have long to wait. Geordi came practically sprinting into sickbay a moment later, engineering toolkit in hand. He faltered when he saw Data. Then crouched on the floor beside Beverly.

"Hey buddy." He squeezed Data's hand firmly. "I'm here."

"Geor-" Data tripped over the word; swallowed and then restarted. "Geordi."

"You're gonna be fine, Data." 

Geordi looked up at Worf, and Worf knew that the engineer was as unsure as he was. The injury looked worse than ever, here in the light. The sword had cut a jagged tear into his uniform, a uniform that was now covered in a growing polygon of sticky coolant. 

"We're gonna be right here when you wake up," Geordi assured. 

He looked to Beverly, who administered her concoction to Data's neck. Slowly, his eyes drifted shut, and his hand fell limply out of Geordi's grasp.

"Let's get him to the operating room," Beverly said, after they'd all taken a silent moment to stare at Data's still, sleeping form.

. . . . . .

Worf sat on the bench outside of the operating room and twiddled his thumbs. Wrung his hands together. Tried to piece together the absolute disaster of a mission it had been. Why had they been there in the first place? He couldn't even remember. 

Deanna was next to him, just the two of them sitting in silence. She hadn't commented on the coolant still stuck to his hands, or the tear in his uniform where he’d been hit in the scuffle. 

"I remember sitting on a bench just like this, with Alexander," Deanna said suddenly. "While you were having your surgery."

Worf did not respond to that, only because he didn't know what to say. That was not a time he liked to think about: he'd been short tempered, lashing out at people he cared about. But suddenly he wanted to see his son.

As if by fate, Will came along a moment later holding the hand of the young Klingon. Alexander looked hesitant. But when he saw Worf, he ran to him.

"Father!" He cried, hugging Worf around the middle. 

Worf pulled him up onto the bench, between himself and Deanna.

"Father, is it true that you saved Mr. Data?"

Worf turned away. Down to the coolant stuck to his fingers. His mind rushed to the image of the sword; Data's tears; his shaky voice.

"I...did what I could to help him." 

Deanna gave Worf a look, and then turned to Alexander.

"Your father carried Mr. Data through a blizzard to make sure he was safe." She and Will shared a small smile. "We've missed having you both around."

"I miss you, too," Alexander said with a smile.

Worf forced his own smile. But his thoughts were elsewhere: on the surgical table, where Data's fate was still unclear. As much as the others wanted to ignore it, there was still a long way to go before Data could really be called 'alright' or 'saved'.

. . . . . .

"Damn it!" Beverly cursed, suctioning yet more of the coolant flowing out of Data's torso. 

They'd been working for half an hour now; had removed the sword, fixed some of the damage. But still they weren't out of the woods. It seemed like they hadn't even found the path out yet.

"We're gonna need more ice packs," said Geordi, working up near Data's head. When the nurse passed him one, he held it against Data's burning neck. Massaged his hair as he did so, more as a comfort to himself than the sleeping android.

Beverly wiped her face in the arm of her jacket. Thought over the situation again. Looked at Data, blissfully unaware of how precarious his condition was.

"Replicate more coolant," she ordered one of the technicians. "I'm going to set up a transfusion."

Geordi straightened up. Shined his blue eyes in her direction.

"I've never done that with him before."

Beverly shook her head. Eyed the frantic monitors telling her that her patient was nearly coding, or whatever the android equivalent was. 

"It's the only chance we've got," she stated. "He's lost way too much coolant, and he's not going to get better without more. His temperature's out of control. And you said his systems are going to start failing if-"

"Alright," Geordi said calmly. "Okay, we're doing this."

. . . . .

Riker and Deanna managed to keep Alexander distracted, but they couldn't do much for Worf. His mind couldn't stay on his son right now. Couldn't focus on the positives. Not after today. 

Only when the captain showed up, shaking hands with Alexander and clapping Will on the back, did Worf seem to wake up out of his daze. He stood to attention, adjusting his uniform.

"Sir; I apologize for my report. If you need clarification..."

Picard held up a hand; gave Worf a gentle smile.

"The report can wait as long as it needs to. How are you? How's Data?"

Worf went silent at that question. Will chimed in for him, "We haven't heard anything in a while. Door's closed until Beverly's ready for us; doctor's orders."

Picard nodded, then turned sharply to Worf. "Lieutenant, I can't begin to tell you..."

"Sir, I did what any other Starfleet officer would do. I only wish that I had been more attentive. Perhaps-"

"Do not blame yourself for this, Mr. Worf," Picard said clearly, looking the Klingon right in the eye. "Do you understand me? This is not your fault. You are the only reason Data has a fighting chance."

Worf blushed slightly. "Aye, sir," he said quietly.

"Will, Deanna; I do need both of you on the bridge, if you’re available."

They each gave Worf another pat on the back, another smile, and then left him alone with Alexander. Releasing a sigh, he sat back on the lonely bench. Gestured for his son to join him. And together, the two Rozhenkos waited for news.

. . . . .

Geordi carefully treaded a portion of tubing into Data's healed fluid storage compartment. He looked a lot better, without coolant leaking out of his torso. But they all knew that to be misleading. His systems were starting to overheat, an issue that had already fried a few of the finer motor control synapses in his delicate positronic brain. 

That was one thing: Geordi could fix those later without a problem. Data could relearn how to play piano, or hold a pencil. But if anything vital overheated...

"We're ready to go, doc," Geordi murmured, setting his hand on Data's as Beverly took her place on the opposite side of the table.

"Good work, Geordi." She checked the unit one last time; made some calculations in her PADD. "Alright, start the transfusion. 10 ccs, to start."

They watched with bated breath as the coolant made its way into Data's body. 

The reaction was instant, though not positive. His arms and legs jerked suddenly. Then his head. His breathing hitched a few times.

Beverly chewed her bottom lip.

"Come on, Data," she pleaded. 

Geordi squeezed Data's hand, watching him without blinking. He looked at the exposed left side of his torso; to the wires and tubes that ran into and out of his fragile systems. Had he made a mistake? Had they used the wrong coolant, or delivered it to the wrong place?

"Geor-Geor-Geordi," Data suddenly stuttered, eyes flickering into life.

Geordi was by his head in an instant.

"Hey, buddy. What's up?"

"The coolant must be below freezing point during transfusion." He gasped again, eyes rolling nauseatingly.

Geordi felt his nerves on the very edge. "W-what should we do? Should we remove what we've already added?" His head was screaming at him. He should know this stuff! He had been Data's engineer for nearly ten years; he should be an expert by now!

"N-n-n..." Data's head slackened off to the side, eyes slipping shut, just as the monitors began buzzing like crazy.

"Damnit!" Beverly shouted, shutting off the transfusion tube. "Someone go replicate coolant below 0°C."

"How much below-?"

"Now!"

She breathed deeply for a moment, leaning on the table. Geordi watched the monitors; watched the heart rate drop to zero, as well as the breath monitor. Watched system after system overheat.

"Don't do this to us, Data," he begged his friend, running his hand across Data’s feverish forehead.. "Come on, stay with us. Not today." Not ever.

The technician returned with the proper coolant, at the proper temperature, and got a muttered apology from Beverly. Then the operation began again, with the new coolant sliding down the tube into Data's body.

Geordi crouched by Data's head, stroking his hair. He felt done for the day. Exhausted and ready to pass out as soon as this whole thing was over. As soon as Data was alright. 

Beverly was at her wit’s end, too. Ready to sleep for about a week, if not longer. She'd always faced tough situations, yes; that was the life of a Starfleet doctor. But it didn't usually hit this close to home.

"Geordi," she breathed, watching the monitors.

He leapt up to find some of Data's systems coming back online. His heart beat. Then he breathed in a gasp of air. The monitors quieted, and then stopped beeping altogether, as Data returned to the land of the living.

Beverly let out a sigh of relief, wiping her brow. The technicians clapped for her. Hell, Geordi clapped for her. But she didn't feel up to celebrating. Instead, she sat in a chair by the wall with her head resting on her hand.

Geordi stayed by Data's side, clutching his hand in his own. He stroked his hair; wiped the remaining tears off of his face.

"Data?"

Data's head shifted. His eyes struggled open, blurred vision making his eyebrows furrow.

"Geordi," he sighed. 

Geordi squeezed his hand again. Smiled wide. "Hey buddy. You're okay."

"For a moment..." Data started, and then blinked another tear into his eye. It ran down his cheek; dripped onto the table below.

"Hey, it's okay." Geordi pulled his head toward his own, so that their foreheads touched. "Everything's okay now."

They stayed like that for a while, as everyone in the room got their breath back. Let their adrenaline drop back to normal. Lived in the simple joy of a day that could have been worse.

In time, Data was cleaned up. Given a pillow and a blanket. Checked over and over again by Geordi and the technicians alike. 

Throughout it all, Beverly sat by the wall and counted her blessings. It wasn’t often that they came close to losing one of their senior officers; especially not Data. He was such a constant on the Enterprise, as if it wouldn’t and couldn’t be the same ship without him. But as her adrenaline dropped and tiredness won out, her mind calmed into a more joyful state.

As Geordi checked Data’s brain functions for the fifth time, Beverly suddenly jumped up with an exclamation. She hurried out into the hallway, and when she returned, Worf was trailing behind her.

"I'll be just outside," Geordi said, patting Data's hand.

He, Beverly, and the medical staff disappeared to give the two men some privacy. Beverly snatched up a portable monitor, for her own peace of mind, and then shut the door behind their party.

Alone, Worf suddenly found himself without anything to say. Everything he'd been thinking, out there in the hallway, seemed awkward now that he was standing in front of Data. He folded his hands in front of himself as his eyes glazed over his former commanding officer.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, when he realized he had been staring for a bit too long.

"I believe I will be fully healed within a few days."

Worf nodded. After another awkward pause, he added, "That is good to hear."

They stared into space for another full minute. Then Worf deflated.

"I regret that I was unable to prevent your injury," he admitted. "Though the captain seems to think I am being too hard on myself."

Data cocked his head to the side. "The captain is correct. It was impossible for you to have been able to predict the future, which would have been necessary to avert such a sudden attack."

Worf smiled. That was the Data he was used to. "It is good to see you again, commander."

"It is good to see you as well, commander Worf."

Worf tilted his head; clapped Data on the shoulder. "I believe Alexander would like to see you. Would that be alright?"

"Yes, of course."

Data sat up as much as he could on the awkward table, as Worf went out to collect his son. When they returned, Data and Alexander both shared a smile.

"Mr. Data!" Alexander ran over with his arms wide, but paused sheepishly before he made contact.

"It is alright," Data assured, holding his arms out for a hug. "The external injury is healed."

They shared a long hug, as Worf watched proudly from the sidelines. 

"Mr. Data?" Alexander asked, as he pulled away. "Are you really alright?"

Data cocked his head to the side. "Mostly, yes. But many of my systems are still rebooting. I may need a few days to regain fine motor skills, as well as voice cantaloupe."

Alexander chuckled. "What?"

Data's brows furrowed. "Voice control. It seems that my voice box overheated during the toboggan."

Alexander laughed again, though Data could not understand what was so humorous. Worf patted his son on the back. "We should get back to our quarters. There is much packing to be done before our departure tomorrow."

Data frowned slightly at the news. "You are leaving tomorrow?"

"Yes, Alexander needs to resume his studies. And I need to resume my duties." He paused, and then shook Data's hand firmly. "It has been an honor serving with you once again, my friend."

"Likewise."

They shared a long look. Worf patted Data’s hand again, and then led Alexander toward the door.

“Worf?” Data called suddenly.

“Yes?”

Data smiled softly. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Worf blushed; turned to the floor. But he forced himself to look up again. Directly into those shining yellow eyes.

“Yours is a life worth saving.” He smiled. “Rest well.”

They nodded. Shared one more long look. 

And then Worf led Alexander back to their quarters, exhausted but overwhelmed with joy that his friend was alright. No, more than friend: brother. It would be a long time before Worf would fully recover from the stress of today. But for now, everyone being alive was enough. Being back on the Enterprise for another night was enough. 

Feeling proud of himself and his work today...was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Part 2 is coming soon.


End file.
